Decepticon Blue?
by Peacewish
Summary: G1 Yet another chapter in the saga of Autobot Twins meet Monty Python. Poor Prowl. Poor Laserbeak.


Laserbeak never minded the frequent commands to infiltrate the Ark. Megatron was always hungry for intel, and it was always Laserbeak Soundwave designated for the task. Not Buzzsaw, who might be faster in open sky but couldn't maneuver through a tight vent tunnel to save his circuits. Not the elder twins, who couldn't keep their vocalizers mute for half a breem. And not even Ravage, who was indeed silent and stealthy but did not have Laserbeak's smaller size or aerial advantage. Soundwave always sent Laserbeak, and obediently Laserbeak went.

The mission was dangerous, but to Laserbeak this was a matter of pride. Only he could skim along the Autobots' security net, deftly diving through the brief and narrow gaps with just molecules to spare. Only he could avoid the constantly rearranged motion sensors. Only he could glide over the heads of Autobots, silent as a zephyr of air, and record their every unsuspecting move. That bundle of fritzing wires, Red Alert, would short himself out one of these orns trying to outsmart him. And he would lose, Laserbeak knew, because he was just that good and just that smart at what he did. Not the security director or any other Autobot could ever stop him.

Or so he was thinking, soaring gracefully through the enemies' halls. A startled yelp (_"Foul shot!"_) and a small black projectile proved him quite wrong.

He onlined in considerable pain. Sensors along the underside of his beak throbbed, firing one warning after another to his processor, and his optics needed calibrating. All he could see was a world of fuzzy orange. Then someone gripped his head and tilted it, deftly tightening the right wires, and the room came into focus. Laserbeak had explored the Ark often enough to know the medbay when he saw it. The Autobot chief medic bent over, scowl firmly in place, and swept a scanner over his head. "Well, look who's awake. Don't you try to snap at me, you little pest, I just rebooted your processor and saved you from stasis. Bet that's the first time a Decepticon's been taken out by a hockey puck. Guess now I can't yell at the fraggers for playing in the hallway."

Ratchet shrugged and tightened something else, which resulted in sharp pain racing up his circuits and straight into his central processor. He squawked and flapped his wings in a burst of panic, frantic to escape.

"Hold still, slaggit! This won't take a- would you just- I'm not going to hurt you!"

Something pinched under the armor on a vulnerable joint, and then Laserbeak found quite suddenly that he could not move at all. Paralysis was swiftly followed by rapid shutdown of the processor.

"...much," he heard Ratchet mutter, and then everything was black.

* * *

When Laserbeak onlined again, the medbay was gone. He was moving - or, more accurately, someone was carrying him through the halls of the Ark. Bars partially obscured the view. Did those fragging Autobots actually put him in a _cage?_ His first instinct was to lash out and attack, but, again, he was in a cage. And anyway his head still hurt tremendously, enough to make any strenuous physical activity unattractive. For now he lay still, watching and waiting for his chance to escape. Also trying to deduce which Autobot was toting him along. The armor was red. Was it that hulking shadow of Red Alert's? Or maybe Prime's weapon specialist. He tilted his head up high enough to peek, and inwardly wilted. What the frag did _Sideswipe_ want with him?

Merry grin fixed on his face, Sideswipe sauntered into what Laserbeak knew was the Autobots' rec room. None of the officers were present; just his espionage rivals Mirage and Hound, and that chatterbox sniper Bluestreak. And also, Laserbeak was unhappy to note, Sideswipe's vicious brother. "'Ello!" Sideswipe sang out, loud and clear, and everyone in the room but Sunstreaker looked up. "'Ello, I wish to register a complaint." Every pair of blue optics fixed on Sideswipe and then Laserbeak, looking baffled. All except Sunstreaker, who continued to ignore them.

"'Ello, miss?" Sideswipe added, pointedly addressing his brother. Sunstreaker finally spared him an irritable look.

"What do you mean 'miss'?"

"Oh, er, sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint!"

"We're closin' for lunch," Sunstreaker said coldly. Sideswipe waved a dismissive hand.

"Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this parrot what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very bou-tique."

"Oh Primus," Mirage groaned, rolling his optics. "They're doing _that_ again."

"Shh!" Hound hissed, grin almost as big as Sideswipe's by now. Laserbeak shrunk into himself, scared and uncertain. Why had he been taken from the medbay? Why were there no officers? Why did Hound and Bluestreak have those unnerving expressions of anticipation on their faces? What were the twin terrors of the Autobot frontline going to do to him? Sunstreaker had bent forward, peering at Laserbeak in a way that made his vents hiccup with trepidation.

"Oh yes," he finally said. "The, uh, Norwegian Blue. What's, er... what's wrong with it?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad!" was the rapt response. "'E's dead, that's what's wrong with it!"

_Dead?_

"No, no," Sunstreaker argued, shaking his head. "'E's uh... resting."

"Look, matey, I know a dead parrot when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now."

"No no, he's not dead, he's - he's restin'! Remarkable bird, the Norwegian Blue, idn't it, ay? Beautiful plumage!" Sunstreaker reached through the bars and poked Laserbeak on the wing, and Laserbeak flinched. Somewhere in the room Bluestreak snorted back his laughter.

"The 'plumage' don't enter into it," Sideswipe informed his brother tersely. "It's stone dead."

"No no no no no! 'E's resting!"

"Alright then, if he's restin', I'll wake him up!" Without warning Sideswipe held his cage at optic level and bellowed at him, vocalizer at top volume. "'Ello, Mister Polly Parrot! I've got a lovely fresh cuttle fish for you if you show -"

Sunstreaker bumped at the underside of his cage, startling Laserbeak into squawking and flapping wings to regain his balance. "There, he moved!"

"No he didn't, that was you hitting the cage!"

"I never!"

"Yes, you did!"

"I never, never did anything -"

"'ELLO, POLLY!!!" Without warning Sideswipe started banging against the bars of his cage, and the terrified Laserbeak tried to hover midair at equal distance from either twin. "Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your nine o'clock alarm call!"

He yanked open the door and dragged Laserbeak out by a wing, whacking him unceremoniously against the table. Then, quite unexpectedly, he tossed Laserbeak up into the air and let go. Solidly in the grip of panic and convinced the Autobots were going to kill him, Laserbeak seized at his chance and tried to flap away. But he'd just received another nasty knock on the head, right on top of the last injury that was still repairing itself. The servos powering his wings weren't pressurized enough to pump with any force, and like a crumpled paper plane he fluttered helplessly to the floor.

"Now that's what I call a dead parrot," Sideswipe said triumphantly.

"No no... no 'e's stunned!"

"_Stunned?_"

"Yeah!" Sunstreaker thrust out his chin defiantly. "You stunned him, just as he was wakin' up! Norwegian Blues stun easily, major."

"Now look... now look, mate, I've definitely 'ad enough of this." Laserbeak was attempting to limp away on foot when Sideswipe swept him up off the floor, holding him, humiliatingly enough, by finger and thumb around the neck. "This parrot is definitely deceased, and when I purchased it not 'alf an hour ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it bein' tired and shagged out following a prolonged _squawk_."

"Well..." Sunstreaker studied the hapless Laserbeak doubtfully. "He's, ah, probably pining for the fjords."

Bluestreak and Hound's shoulders both convulsed, hands clapped over their mouths, struggling not to laugh. Mirage looked torn between collapsing in laughter and leaving the room in disgust.

"PININ' for the FJORDS?" Sideswipe's voice was waxing hysterical. "What kind of talk is that? Look, why did he fall flat on his back the moment I got 'im home?"

"The Norwegian Blue prefers kippin' on its back! Remarkable bird, idn't, squire? Lovely plumage!"

"Look, I took the liberty of examining that parrot when I got it home, and I discovered the only reason that it had been sitting on its perch in the first place was that it had been NAILED there."

A pause. Laserbeak trembled, acutely aware of the powerful grip around his neck, how little effort it would take on Sideswipe's part to crush it and destroy his air intakes. Sunstreaker was studying him, as if looking for a solution somewhere on his body.

"Well... well... well, o' course it was nailed there! If I hadn't nailed that bird down, it would have nuzzled up to those bars, bent 'em apart with its beak, and VOOM! Feeweeweewee!"  
He flapped his hands in an approximation of a bird flying away, an act Laserbeak desperately wished he could accomplish right now.

"VOOM?" Sideswipe echoed disdainfully. "Mate, this bird wouldn't 'voom' if you put four million volts through it! 'E's bleedin' demised!"

"No no! 'E's pining!"

"'E's not pinin'! E's passed on! This parrot is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E's a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed 'im to the perch 'e'd be pushing up the daisies! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E's off the twig! 'E's kicked the bucket, 'e's shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisible! THIS IS AN EX-PARROT!"

Deathly silence. Laserbeak waited, frozen, for his termination, and then the watching Autobots could hold it in no longer. Hound and Bluestreak burst out laughing, bracing themselves against their legs to keep from falling over, desperately gasping to keep air flowing their systems. Mirage tried a little harder, but in the end he succumbed and started laughing too.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker waited patiently for the laughter to run its course, looking a trace smug. And when it finally tapered off into strained, ragged chuckles, they continued as if they hadn't heard a thing.

"Well," Sunstreaker finally said. "I'd better replace it, then." The other three laughed some more, but it was clearly too much of an effort for their systems and it subsided quickly. Sunstreaker glanced over his shoulder, as if there were anything to see but the energon dispenser. "Sorry, squire, I've had a look 'round the back of the shop and, uh, we're right out of parrots."

"I see," Sideswipe said coldly. "I see. I get the picture."

"I got a slug," Sunstreaker offered diffidently.

Sideswipe raised an optic ridge. "Pray, does it talk?"

"... not really."

"WELL IT'S HARDLY A BLOODY REPLACEMENT, IS IT???"

"No, I guess not." Looking ashamed, Sunstreaker dropped his gaze to the floor.

"Well."

"Well."

"D'you want to come back -"

"What's going on here?"

Both twins flinched at Prowl's cool voice, but Laserbeak's spark surged with hope. An officer, and Prime's second-in-command. Surely he would not allow termination of a prisoner. Hound and Bluestreak suddenly found other interesting parts of the room to look at, and Mirage conveniently disappeared. When Sideswipe turned around, Laserbeak could see both Prowl and Jazz now coming into the rec room. Prowl's doorwings were stiff with suspicion, flat blue optics moving back and forth between the twins. Jazz looked stricken.

"Aw, did I miss something really good?"

A whimper of laughter that escaped Bluestreak's vocalizer seemed to confirm it. Jazz slapped his palm to his forehead.

"Sideswipe," Prowl said frostily. "Sunstreaker. What did I say about harassing the Decepticon prisoner?"

"Um... do it?"

"Actually, it was closer to, 'go anywhere near him, and he'll be able to see his reflection in the brig floor because it will be just that shiny.' I believe you know where the toothbrushes are. Dismissed."

"Awww..." Their shoulders slumped and they made to shuffle out of the room. Prowl extended a hand for the petrified Laserbeak.

"What was that accent I heard you shouting in just now, Sideswipe? Because I know I banned _Monty Python_ from this ship months ago, and I know you know it too."

"Ah, technically you just banned _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_, and that was -"

"OUT."

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker skittered out of the room, and the second they were out of sight everyone in the room could hear their laughter. Prowl cycled air from his vents in a resigned sort of way and returned Laserbeak to his cage - not exactly gently, but at least taking care not to crush his wings or crack his head against the bars. "The good news for you, Laserbeak, is that we have already entered into negotiations with the Decepticons for your return. I'm sure you'll be on your way soon enough. Tell your master that I'm willing to throw two extra Lamborghinis into the deal, if he is willing to take them."

More softly, he added, "But I'm sure he isn't that stupid."

* * *

The video clip ended and Soundwave turned off the monitor, plunging his comm room into silence.

_Mad_, was mostly what he was thinking. _Autobots, both barking mad._ Tenderly he placed a hand over his chest, conscious of the traumatized and terrorized symbiote huddled within. It would probably be a long time before Laserbeak had the courage to return to the Ark, if ever. And as for the Decepticons taking in the twin frontliners...

"Soundwave!" Megatron thundered into the room, at his usual top volume. "Have you reviewed Laserbeak's recordings? Is there anything of note to report?"

Soundwave stood, and bowed. "Regret to inform Lord Megatron, recordings destroyed by Autobot captors. Nothing to report at this time."

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters... or a parrot, dead or otherwise. Monty Python is genius. All hail Monty Python. (And that wasn't even a pun.) To completely understand the context of this bit o' crack, one must go and read Tyrrlin's Monty Python piece, which is better and longer. And also Kathrine's Holy Hell. A bandwagon's forming, and we're all jumping on!


End file.
